you're the color of my blood
by chalantness
Summary: None of the pictures she showed him of her dress could've prepared him for seeing her in the dress.


**Title:** you're the color of my blood  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~2,300  
**Characters:** Steve/Natasha, Bucky/Darcy (background)  
**Prompt:** (see picture on AO3 or tumblr version)  
**Summary:** None of the pictures she showed him of her dress could've prepared him for seeing _her_ in the dress.

**you're the color of my blood**

He's seen her in her dress before. Well, he's seen pictures of her in the dress, and even then, it was mostly just of the dress, because she'd angled her phone's camera so that you only saw a bit of her curls over her bare shoulder or only saw her face from the lips down. She's not shy or anything about being in photos, but she doesn't take them of herself very often, either. So he kind of loves it whenever it happens. One of his favorite pictures of her is one that she took herself, when she'd left for brunch with the girls one morning and he noticed that his dog tags were missing. She snapped one with her head tilted a little, the sunlight shining through her red curls, a smile on her face and his tags resting at her neck.

(He still has it set as his phone wallpaper.)

So when she tells him that she's going to look ridiculous today, he can't help but laugh. Right now she's wearing mismatching socks and one of his Stark Industries shirts that's kind of big even on him, so it's huge on her, and her hair is clipped up into this messy bun atop her head. He's pretty sure she's still the most beautiful person he's ever seen.

"You'll look gorgeous."

She grins and shakes her head. "Well, you're kind of a biased opinion, so I don't think you should count."

He chuckles, setting the crossword puzzle onto the island counter as he stands from the barstool. She pours herself coffee, the motion making the sleeve of his shirt fall from her shoulder, and he walks up behind her and presses a kiss to the bared skin. "Trust me, you'll look beautiful. You always do."

"Redheads wearing red is almost always a fashion violation." She tilts her head back to catch his gaze, eyes sparkling. "Haven't you noticed I don't even own red underwear?"

He hums in disagreement. "You do. I've seen them. Or do you forget which one of us actually does the laundry?"

"That's different. A little red is fine, but an all-red dress?"

He breathes out her name on a laugh, pulling her closer so that her back is pressed flush against his chest. He pushes her hair over her shoulder and kisses her temple, then her cheek, and then the underside of her jaw, drawing out a content sigh as her eyes fall closed. "Stop thinking about it," he murmurs against the corner of her mouth, and she brings her hand up and threads her fingers through his hair, tugging his lips over hers. He kisses her soundly, slowly, as if they aren't about to have a dozen things to do in a few hours.

"Your best friend is getting married," she says after a moment, and he laughs, pulling away. "Did you ever think they'd make it this far?"

"Yeah," he says easily. Her smile widens ever so slightly, and he's thinking about being on that helicarrier years ago, not knowing what the hell he was getting himself into when he saw this beautiful woman walking towards him. "Yeah, I think this is where they were always headed."

... ...

"I'm alright," Bucky replies evenly when Sam asks him how he's holding up, and Steve would believe him more if he, you know, would stop fidgeting every thirty seconds.

They're standing on the steps of the church because Bucky wanted to get some fresh air and Steve didn't trust him to not bail as soon as he was left alone, so he and Sam followed him outside. No, Steve doesn't think he'd actually skip out on his own wedding. Not only would Darcy hunt him down herself if he tried, but if there's one thing the guy is absolutely certain about, it's that Darcy is the only person that can keep him together. He loves her, and he knows she loves him, and no amount of misplaced nerves is going to change that.

Steve leans forward a little to get a better look at him. "What's going on?" he asks.

Bucky doesn't say anything at first, but Steve looks between the guy's eyes, watching as he tries to get the words out.

"I just… I can't screw this up, you know?"

Steve sets a hand on his best friend's shoulder and squeezes. Yeah, he knows the feeling. They lived entirely different lives before, with entirely different people, and then they had that ripped out from underneath them. They were dropped into these new roles in this new time and left disoriented by everything that had changed, including themselves.

Natasha had, strangely enough, become a fixed point—something for him to latch onto as he settled into this new life he was supposed to lead. And it only seemed strange at first because there was nothing settled about her life, either. She had different names and different identities, slept in different cities in different countries every other night, pursuing different targets. She became whatever someone needed her to be at any given time, and he knew that there was a very real chance he couldn't believe anything she told him. But somehow he also knew she had never lied to him about anything important. He saw all the parts of her that mattered most and he'd fallen in love with every one of them so easily.

He met her, and slowly, this new future became his present. He was given a second chance and he wanted to take it. He wanted to live.

He_ wants_ to live, and he wants to live with _her_.

Darcy is that fixed point for Bucky, so, yeah. Steve understands. He still can't shake the feeling sometimes, like he's about to have everything taken away from him again. It's terrifying, but it also just makes you fight even harder to keep it from happening.

He knows he's not alone in that fight, either. Natasha is just as stubborn as he is, and now that she's started letting herself hold onto things, she's sure as hell not letting go.

"Fellas," a voice greets, and Steve smiles, turning to see Natasha standing in one of the open doorways into the church.

Steve feels the breath leave him. None of the pictures she showed him of her dress could've prepared him for seeing _her_ in the dress. The neckline dips and the material hugs her curves before falling to the floor at her matching red heels, and her hair is pinned in curls around a few roses he knows matches their bouquets.

(Whoever decided that redheads and reds do not go well has clearly never seen Natasha in red.)

She strolls up to them with her hands folded behind her back, a little grin on her red lips. She meets his eyes and grins a little wider before turning to Bucky and Sam.

"Ceremony's about to start, you know," she informs almost nonchalantly. "Might not want to keep your girl waiting or she'll get even more pissed."

Bucky chokes out a laugh and looks towards the church. "Only Darcy would be in a mood before her own wedding."

"She's nervous?" Sam asks.

"She's impatient," Natasha corrects.

Hearing this relaxes Bucky a little, and he cracks his first, genuine smile of the day. It's a small expression, still weighing with nerves, but Steve can tell that's only temporary. All he needs is to actually see Darcy and it'll sink in that he really has nothing to be nervous about at all.

Steve claps a hand against his best friend's shoulder, and Bucky looks at him, smile growing ever so slightly. "Let's go get you married," he says, and Bucky breathes out a laugh.

He and Sam head back up the steps, and Sam holds a fist up to Natasha so she can bump hers against it, because that's somehow become their thing.

Natasha laughs a little, patting Bucky's shoulder in encouragement as they walk by, and then tilts her head up to look at Steve. He grasps her hand in his and brings the back of it up to his lips, and it's kind of stupid, really, that he feels his grip tremble ever so slightly as he brushes a kiss over her knuckles. It's not like this is their wedding or anything, but it can't be helped, the feeling in his chest. He looks at her and he can't really remember where they are or what they're supposed to be doing. All he wants to do is this moment is kiss her.

She presses a hand to his chest, right over his heart, to stop him when he tries to, though. She's laughing a little, and he notices that her cheeks are flushed lightly.

"You'll smudge my lipstick."

He hums, leaning down to press an open kiss to her throat. She makes this little noise.

"We're in front of a church, you know." But she doesn't sound disapproving at all.

He hums again, against her skin, kissing her as she brings a hand up and grasps at his blazer over his forearm. Then he pulls away, setting a hand at her hip and drawing her close. She's smiling as she rolls her eyes. They should probably head inside now, but they stay where they are.

"I love you," he says, because he wants to.

"I love you, too," she replies without missing a beat, and then there's a playful expression on her lips. "Don't tell me you're starting to get ideas," she teases.

(She knows he's been having ideas for a few months now. It's hard to avoid them when you're watching your best friend going through the process of planning a wedding.)

"Maybe," he replies, pressing their hips together a little.

She makes a noise, smoothing her hand over his tie. Then she meets his eyes and says, "Maybe I am, too."

He breathes out a laugh and leans in to kiss her, and this time she doesn't try to stop him.

... ...

He walks in with Jane as the best man and the maid of honor after the rest of the procession, and then stands next to Bucky as the music starts and Darcy walks in with her bouquet in one hand and her other hand tucked into her father's arm. Steve isn't looking at Bucky, but he doesn't have to be to know that the guy's holding his breath.

And Steve pays attention. Honestly, he does. It's just, during some parts when he's supposed to be watching Bucky and Darcy, he steals a few glances at Natasha, instead. She's standing between Jane and Maria and still carrying Tony and Pepper's daughter, Nikki, in one arm, because she's the flower girl and wanted to walk in with Natasha. Darcy's already crying as she recites her vows, so everyone else is, too, and Natasha's eyes meet his as she leans in close and whispers something to Nikki that makes the girl smile even wider.

(Yeah, he definitely has ideas.)

... ...

The crowd laughs at the reception a few hours later, when Bucky and Darcy are sharing their first dance and Darcy nearly trips over her dress after Bucky twirls her. She calls him an ass, but she's giggling, too, and everyone claps when Bucky slants his lips over hers in a kiss.

Steve's sitting next to Natasha at the head table, his arm over the back of her chair and her hand resting over his knee.

"You were right," she says softly, almost absently. He looks at her in question and she smiles and leans into him a little more. "I think they were always going to make it here."

He smiles and kisses her hair. They don't usually talk about things like fate or whatever, because she doesn't really believe in it, and he isn't sure what he believes half the time. But what they do both believe in is that certain things that are just meant to be – that, even if you had the power to try and change it, certain events will still happen, and certain people will still be drawn together. Maybe that's just an excuse to some people, a way to comfort themselves from things that they couldn't prevent. He doesn't choose to see it that way, though. There are reasons why, no matter how many times Bucky walked away from a fight with Darcy, he continued to come back, and reasons why Darcy continued to forgive him.

There are reasons why, no matter how far Natasha tried to run, she couldn't stay away – and, no matter how lovely the woman, he couldn't bring himself to think of anyone other than Natasha.

(He remembers Sam asking Steve about Natasha once, a few months after Washington D.C. and standing with Natasha at the cemetery, the press of her lips lingering against his cheek as she walked away. He remembers lying awake in a motel bed and staring up at the ceiling, thinking that, no, he wasn't in love with Natasha just yet. But he could.)

"I like it when I'm right," he whispers into her ear, and she squeezes his knee gently. "I was right about you and this dress, too."

"That's arguable," she replies, and he chuckles, kissing her cheek.

... ...

She pushes him down against the hotel bed and straddles his hips, the material of her dress pooling over their thighs as she works the buttons of his shirt undone. She leans forward and presses a kiss to his chest, and her lips leave a red lipstick imprint against his skin.

"I kind of like it when you're right, too," she whispers, like it's supposed to be a secret, and he breathes out a laugh as he pulls her up and kisses her hard.


End file.
